Savage Betrayal

by Anni Antoni

  “Hold on, don’t be so impatient, we go this evening, after we eat.” he chuckled. “Now, can we get some work done?”

  I worked like a maniac all day, and made twice as many swords as usual, so nervous about meeting my young lady's father that I couldn't contain myself.

  Pelle watched in amazement as I toiled at the forge.

  “This young woman has an amazing effect on your ability to work. No doubt she’ll be a good influence on you.” He grinned at me. “If only I had known sooner that a pretty face would double your output.” He laughed at his own joke and punched me on the arm.

  If only he knew how much I needed to make her mine. Although I had only seen her once, her face, seared into my brain, would never be erased. The desperate need I felt to be with her grew stronger by the hour.

  We doused the fire, stored the weapons we had made and went to our quarters, where Bronwyn had laid out the evening meal. I bolted my food down, finishing before anyone else. Then I had to sit and watch as Pelle lingered forever over his meal.

  “Are you ready, Pelle?” I asked at last, noticing how he and Bronwyn exchanged a smile at my agitation.

  At last, he rose from the table, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I'm ready now,” he said, taking a last gulp of broth. “I've never seen you this impatient. Come on, let's do this. Remember, let me do the talking.”

  I nodded, trying to appear calm, but my heart hammered in my chest. Sweat poured down my brow and my hands were clammy. Raw need clamored inside me, together with the desperate hope Pelle had a plan to make her mine.

  We walked together across the compound to the quarters of the man, his wife and three daughters. As soon as we knocked on the door, he came to greet us. “Welcome sirs, please come in,” he said, leaning over and grasping first Pelle’s hands, then mine.

  He led us into the main room. The young women and their mother were absent. Obviously, he had chosen to leave them out of the discussion.

  Indicating where we could sit, he offered us a cool, herbal beverage. On our best behavior, we exchanged names politely, his was Bronson, and made small talk as we sat sipping our drinks.

  This was taking an eternity. When would we get down to business, I wondered, squirming in my seat, fighting down the urge to shake Pelle and Bronson and demand the answers I craved to know?

  “Now sirs, you want to discuss my daughters? Is there any one, in particular, you want to discuss?” He asked at last.

  “There is no hurry,” said Pelle, smiling. “All we want to know is the status of your daughters.”

  No hurry? It was urgent. I wanted to scream at Pelle, but bit my tongue and kept silent. Pelle knew what he was doing, I reminded myself.

  My daughters are all without husbands. I was granted permission to live here because of my three healthy, beautiful daughters available for partnering to the right people.

  I couldn't wait any longer. “Are they all still available?” I asked, my mind in a frenzy, needing to know the answer.

  Pelle put his hand on my arm, no doubt trying to slow down my questioning. I know he was trying to make us seem not too eager, merely interested at this stage, to help with the negotiations. I ground my teeth together, in an attempt to keep my mouth shut.

  “So far, all my girls are available,” he said. The Prince has indicated an interest, but, as yet, he has not picked one.

  Relief flooded me, to the extent I felt limp, upon hearing that. Let's hope he won’t want all of them, I thought. As Bronwyn said, the Prince was a law unto himself, unpredictable, and could do anything.

  “Which daughter was watching the sword fight this morning,” I asked, once again too eagerly and once again the insane desire to shake the answer out of him resurfaced.

  Oh, that would be Rachel, the youngest,” he said with a broad smile, “a rare beauty.”

  Rachel -- I had a name for her. The name sang and echoed in the depths of my being. I closed my eyes and saw her image as clearly as I had seen her earlier in the day. Her name was as beautiful as she was.

  “Would you like to see my girls?” The question hung in the air as my mind wandered.

  A sharp jab in my ribs brought me back to reality.

  “You would like to see the young ladies wouldn't you, Joshaviah?” Pelle peered into my face, no doubt wondering why I was suddenly struck dumb when given the opportunity to speak.

  “Ah… yes!” I mentally shook myself. Acting like a distracted fool was no way to impress Rachel's father. I shifted in my seat, determined to get a grip on myself.

  Bronson clapped his hands and his three daughters walked in. Although they were all beautiful, my eyes fixated on Rachel, the last to enter.

  She kept her eyes down but my eyes drank in her beauty as though parched -- long, lustrous, dark hair, with a small white flower tucked behind her ear. My eyes devoured her beautiful figure, not too slim and not too buxom, just perfect in every way, full lips, a soft, sensitive face and skin I ached to touch.

  But, when she lifted her eyes, I was captivated, her happy prisoner for eternity. Eyes of violet, deep violet, with untold depths, met mine. Rachel took my breath away.

  My jaw must have dropped because I felt Pelle elbow me in the ribs again and noticed my mouth open. Quickly I shut it and held her gaze.

  We communicated something primal in that first gaze. The corners of her mouth lifted in the ghost of a smile and she dropped her eyes again. Bronson clapped his hands once more and his daughters filed out.

  “Thank you,” said Pelle. Unable to speak, I nodded in agreement.

  Pelle began negotiations. “So, I understand these girls are all still available?”

  The man nodded. “The price is high though. Can you meet it?”

  “That depends,” Pelle said, stroking his chin. “What are you asking?”

  “We need to be mindful that these girls are our safeguard in old age, as we have no sons. They will go to the highest bidder, so we can live out our years without hardship.”

  Pelle nodded. “I understand. Would you permit a daughter some input in your decision?”

  Bronson frowned and scratched his head. Silence filled the room as he pondered an answer. “It depends very much on the suitor, but I would like my daughters to be happy with their husbands,” he said, breaking into a smile.

  It was Pelle’s turn to think. After an eternity of silence, he lifted his head. “Would you accompany a daughter to other quarters, to live with the suitor, if he pledged to take care of you and your wife as well as one of your daughters?”

  Bronson was quick to answer. “At this stage, all I can say is that I'm not opposed, depending very much on the person involved.”

  Pelle smiled and leaned back, looking satisfied with the way things were progressing, but I needed more. I grabbed his shoulder, but he put his hand on mine in reassurance, and I allowed him to continue without interruption, trusting he knew what he was doing better than I did.

  “There is one more question uppermost in my son’s mind. Would it be out of the question for him to meet your youngest daughter and spend a little time with her?”

  I held my breath waiting for his reply. It came quickly.

  “I will ask my daughter,” he said, bowing his head and masking a smile. “But he looks like someone she would like to know. Depending on her answer, a meeting should be possible.”

  “Good,” said Pelle. “That is all we need ask today. I look forward to hearing from you with your daughter's response.” Pelle stood and Bronson followed suit. Solemnly they shook hands.

  What had just happened? Had some sort of agreement been reached while I had been momentarily distracted, picturing Rachel's face? Did I hear Pelle say I could meet her?

  My head swam as I scrambled to my feet and shook the man's hand, following Pelle’s example. I intended to ask him when we got outside, not before. I wouldn’t act like an idiot in front of Rachel's father any more than I had done already, but I took heart from the fact that Pelle was
smiling. Could he make the impossible happen?

  Chapter 14.

  A Way Forward

  B lindly, in total confusion, I stumbled after Pelle to our home. He stopped just before the entrance.

  “Were you following what happened back there?” he asked quietly, concern written on his face. “You’re not yourself today.”

  “Not entirely,” I admitted. “I believe you negotiated something and I think you found a way for me to meet with Rachel.”

  My head pounded with hope, confusion, despair and elation. Nothing had prepared me for the primal intensity of the mating urge.

  “Yes, that's right,” he said. “You got the main points.”

  “But I don't understand,” I said, my heart racing. “I heard you mention a suitor’s home. How can I possibly provide a home for Rachel? Have you forgotten I live with you?”

  He put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “I've forgotten nothing of the kind. If you are ready to take a wife, you need your own quarters.” He frowned, paused, and looked me in the eye.

  “Are you still serious in your intent?”

  “Never more serious.” I reassured him.

  He squeezed my shoulder again, and I heard his sharp intake of breath before he continued.

  “That means you must negotiate with Prince Evrat. I don't envy you the task, and I fear you may bring his attention on to all of us, but it must be done.

  To have your own dwelling and the freedom to have Rachel as your wife, you must give him something of value in exchange. Even if Rachel's father gives his permission, there is no going forward without permission from the Prince for Rachel to be your wife in your own dwelling.

  By living here, under his protection, we are his. Do you understand that?”

  I hadn't thought it through, but as soon as Pelle said it, I realized it made perfect sense. I still had a lot to learn about human customs, at that stage.

  Panic seized me as another thought struck home, and I grabbed at Pelle’s arm.

  “But, are you mad? Have you forgotten? I have nothing of value to give to the Prince in exchange for this favor. He took all our goods. What are you thinking?”

  “Yes, you have -- something of immense value,” he said, “your sword fighting skills. I have taught you routines and forms and ways to fight using a sword, but your own natural ability, your speed and strength are extraordinary.

  Why not offer your skills to the Prince to train his men? He plans on war any day now. To have you train his men would give him an enormous advantage.”

  The idea rendered me speechless for a few moments, but the more I thought on it, the more I realized I did possess the ability to train his men. Of course, they would never match me in speed and strength, but I could teach them the same things that Pelle had taught me and make them better fighters.

  I couldn’t concern myself with whether I should train his soldiers or not. The ethics of it was beyond my limited understanding.

  My superiors, and their rules, were all but forgotten as I learned to live in the human world. All I knew was I had something of value to offer the Prince and I had something I desperately wanted from him.

  It was a good place to start a successful negotiation. Joy welled inside me and I beamed at Pelle.

  There was real hope Rachel would be my wife and I could have my own quarters. All I had to do was demonstrate my value to the Prince. A simple task, it seemed, at the time, especially after talking to Pelle.

  “Yes, yes, yes! You are a genius -- I do have something to offer the Prince and tomorrow I will see him and convince him.”

  Things can change in an instant. Yesterday I was happy living in Pelle’s house as the family Guardian. Today I was planning to take a human as my mate and set up home in my own dwelling. My head reeled with endless exciting possibilities.

  **********

  That night I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned and as soon as the first rays of daylight seeped through the clouds I was up.

  Looking through the swords we had made yesterday I tested the weight, and the feel of them in my hand. One felt particularly good, like a natural extension of my arm, and I decided I'd take that one to meet with Prince Evrat to show my skills. I knew he would want proof of my ability with a sword, and I planned to demonstrate some of the forms and defenses Pelle had taught me.

  Walking out into the courtyard, I watched the sun rise. The view from the wall of the fort was spectacular, although I hardly ever took advantage of it. But today, of all days, I had fresh hope in my heart.

  The golden rays of the sun spread slowly over the horizon and reached out like a fan across the fields surrounding the fort. Gathering momentum, the sun flooded the plains with a golden light, like the hope building in my heart.

  Bronwyn called me in when our first meal of the day was ready. I ate without speaking and walked into the courtyard again, mentally preparing for the challenges of the day ahead.

  Pelle joined me. “I know you’re tense,” he said, smiling. “But try to relax. You have a strong case to present to the Prince. You are an excellent swordsman and have all the skills to train the Prince’s soldiers well. Remember that. It should be worth a great deal to him.”

  His words made me breathe easier. What would I do without him? Sometimes he felt more like my Guardian than I his. Tears prickled the back of my eyes, but I fought them down.

  “Thank you Pelle. It helps to know that, and I will remind myself if doubts creep in.”

  We made small talk for a few moments while gathering wood for the fire. Soon, however, I saw Arbiter Berkant coming out of his quarters and moving into the space where he consulted daily on the running of the community.

  “Wish me luck,” I whispered to Pelle and ran across the courtyard.

  “Arbiter, I need to talk to you,” I called, my voice carrying the urgency of my quest. “I have something to put before the Prince and I request an audience with him.”

  The Arbiter fixed me with a stony look. “You? An audience with the Prince? What do you have that could possibly interest him?”

  “Something of immense value, but I want something in return.”

  The Arbiter’s laughter boomed out, and he slapped his thighs.

  “This had better be good. The Prince is in a bad mood this morning, I fear. He is angry because supply carts for the soldiers are slow to come in, and the men themselves are unready for battle.

  He wants them to start out next week, but I don’t think enough supplies will have been gathered by then. Be warned, you’d better not waste his time.”

  He gave me an appraising look, suddenly serious.

  “At least, thanks to you and Pelle, he has enough good weapons. Your output and quality remain of the highest standard and you have trained others to work to a similar high standard. I think he views you and your father well.”

  “Please Arbiter, I can help with the men. I can train them to fight with these swords in a way they don't do now. It will give them a great advantage in battle.”

  The Arbiter looked me up and down, stroking his chin. At least he had stopped laughing.

  “Quite right, this would interest the Prince. I’m sure you will get your audience.” he said at last. “What do you want in return?” His eyes narrowed.

  “I wish to take a wife and I would like my own quarters. That is all.” My heart was in my mouth as I made my request known and my throat suddenly dried.

  The Arbiter took a step back, raking appraising eyes over me. “A reasonable request. If what you say is true, it could be the difference between winning the battle easily or winning after a long drawn out fight. We have the numbers and the weapons to win, but it is best to do so quickly, without unnecessary struggle.” He pursed his lips. “Leave it with me Joshaviah. I will see the Prince later this morning and arrange your audience with him. Be prepared to come at short notice. The Prince is busy and doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  Joy overtook tension as I listened to his words. I had
made my first step on the journey to win Rachel as my wife. So far, it seemed easy.

  **********

  The sun climbed a little higher in the sky and a light breeze fanned my face. Pelle set to work organizing things, sorting out the forge tools and building the fire hot enough to make the base metal molten.

  I gave him a hand with building the fire, but I would not get involved with making swords this morning, because I needed to be ready for an audience with the Prince at a moment’s notice.

  My nerves were getting the better of me. I paced back and forth trying to keep them under control, but sweat ran down my back and I constantly wiped sweaty palms on my tunic.

  “Calm yourself,” Pelle growled at me. “You need your wits about you when you face the Prince.”

  Closing my eyes, I breathed deeply for a few moments. I knew I had to remain as calm as possible. The Prince was clever, and never fair, so I had to be at my sharpest to negotiate with him successfully.

  Opening my eyes, I saw Arbiter Berkant leave the Prince’s quarters and come scurrying across the courtyard, heading towards me. This must mean I had my audience.

  I looked towards Pelle, my hands suddenly sweaty again, and he nodded to me.

  “Good luck Joshaviah,” he said. “Remember, don't sell yourself short.”

  With that in mind I walked over to meet the Arbiter, determined to do my best.

  “The Prince wants to see you immediately,” he said. “He is keen to hear your proposition. Let's hope you can prove your worth. As I told you, he will not be happy to have his time wasted today.”

  I followed him into the Prince’s quarters. As usual, when he was giving an audience, the Prince was sitting on his blackwood throne, flanked by well-armed, burly soldiers.

  “Kneel in front of Prince Evrat, our Revered Leader,” announced the Arbiter, and I fell to my knees in front of him.

  “Weapon-maker, I hear you have a proposition, concerning swordsmanship, for me. I'm interested. Have you been holding out on me? It seems you might have been.”

  He drummed his fingers on the arm of his throne and fixed me in a glowering stare. His eyes bored into me.